


Open Road

by awrenawry



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, PWP, Subspace, egregious overuse of car metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awrenawry/pseuds/awrenawry
Summary: Letty draws the knife down and down and down. She looks at Brian like she's daring him to tell her to stop. But there is no stop in Brian. Dom knows that, and he delights in watching Letty's face as she discovers it for herself.Or: Dom and Letty find their way back to each other, with Brian in the middle.
Relationships: Brian O'Conner/Letty Ortiz/Dominic Toretto
Kudos: 21





	Open Road

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, I don't know. The whole world is stuck inside and I just wanted to write porn.

They're back in LA. Back in the house. It's been a bad week, Mia working long shifts at the hospital and the rest of them practically housebound while rain falls in sheets across the city. Dom is beginning to think Letty isn't the only one who doesn't know how to live this life anymore. On the good days, Jack helps. Caring for him brings now into focus. The simplicity of his needs makes them all feel a little closer to human.

But today is not one of the good days. Today they need something else.

Dom offers to cook when Mia calls on her way home from the hospital, but Mia refuses. "No," she tells him over the phone. "No more barbeque. I need to eat something green. Jack needs to eat something green. I'll pick something up."

What exactly Jack needs is a mystery to all of them, perhaps to Jack most of all. He isn't sick—his temperature is normal and he's no snottier than is normal for a thirteen-month-old—but he was up twice in the night and skipped his afternoon nap entirely.

When Mia arrives, the five of them settle around the dinner table, each in their accustomed place. She lifts take out containers from a plastic bag and slides them across the old oak table. Dom sits at the head of the table, Letty at the foot. Brian takes the side closest to the door, instinct putting him between his family and any possible danger. Mia shares her side of the table with Jack in his high chair.

But Jack refuses carrots. He refuses asparagus. He refuses corn. He deigns to accept a dollop of mashed potatoes scooped from Brian's plate, but then he clatters his spoon against the high chair, clamoring for release from his prison. When Mia lifts him down, he crawls into the living room and pulls himself around on the carpet in little circles, grabbing at tufts of the rug to help him along and getting all scrunchy-faced when he can't hold on to them.

Brian abandons the table and scoots along behind Jack, hands hovering, ready for Jack's inevitable breakdown into tears. He looks like he's attempting to defuse a bomb, except that Dom knows for a fact that Brian looks nowhere near this concerned when trying to defuse an actual bomb.

"They've been like this all day?" Mia asks.

Dom nods. Each circuit of the rug brings Brian and Jack closer to Dom's chair, closer and closer, until Brian's shoulder brushes Dom's knee.

"All day," Letty confirms. She looks like she's about to rattle apart if she doesn't get something under her hands. She spent all afternoon in the garage, but to judge from the look in her eye, an engine wasn't enough.

"He really must be a Toretto if he can run Brian around like that," Dom quips.

"Cool it, Dom," Brian snaps, and there's actually a little bite in his voice, like he wants to pick a fight.

Sometimes Dom wishes Brian were better about using his words, but he knows what Brian wants and he wants it too. Dom trails his fingers over Brian's scalp, knots them in his hair where it's longer at the top. "Watch your tone," he growls. That rumbling tone sounds ridiculous rattling around the inside of Dom's skull, but, as usual, it kicks the resistance right out of Brian. He goes soft and pliant, leaning his head back against Dom's chest. It used to take work to get Brian down like this. Time and pain. But these days—well, it turns out that chasing a two-year-old around all day is hard work. Jack does plenty to knock Brian down before Dom even has to lift a finger.

Letty watches Dom spar with Brian from down the length of the table, and something curious lights up in her eyes. Something Dom hasn't seen in quite awhile. "I don't mind a little back talk," she says, sounding amused.

Even Mia feels the energy in the room shift.

Brian and Dom weren't a thing before Letty disappeared. Dom refuses to think _died_ , not anymore; he won't whisper the word even in the quiet of his own mind, now that he doesn't have to. Dom has tried to find some diplomatic way to tell her that's because she never liked to share, before.

Dom loves Letty. She loves him. Love sprouts up between them like crabgrass through the cracks in the cement sidewalk out in front of the house. Nothing is going to stop that coming up. But she isn't entirely the same person she used to be. He was only halfway to his knees when she shot him in London. The Letty he knew would have taken that shot, if she felt she had to, but she would've taken a moment to appreciate the view of him on his knees first.

Seeing this look in her eye again, after so long, makes his heart soar and quake all at the same time, makes his hand tighten on Brian's shoulder.

"Go on," Mia says, shooing them away from the table. "I might not understand it, but I know you need it. Go get it out of your system. I'll wash up."

Washing up doesn't mean much more than sliding grease-soaked cardboard into the trash can. But after a double at the hospital, Dom thinks it's still a generous offer for Mia to make. Sharing her husband is a kind of generous so big it doesn't seem possible that it can fit under the umbrella of the same word, but there is is all the same.

They each need a measure of peace. For Mia, the peace that calls to her is the soft quiet of Jack's room, the sound of his infant breath.

For Dom, for Brian, for Letty, that peace has to be fought for.

Mia tries to sound mad, but Dom can hear the smiling laughter behind her words, and when she passes by Brian on her way to the kitchen, she presses her hand to the side of his face in a gesture full of love. She pats Dom absently on the head, like a child or a dog, and kisses Letty on the cheek. "Have fun with Brian," she whispers to Letty. "He really is quite good with his mouth."

She scoops Jack up from the rug and disappears into the kitchen.

Letty watches Brian and Dom, appraising. “You two weren’t like that before."

Dom knows what she means. “I’m still yours, Letty,” he says. Once, when they were still kids, just eighteen or nineteen, she pinned him to the floor and made him scream, I’m your dog, I’m your dog, so many times he can hear the echo of it under his words even now; he wonders if she can too. “I’m yours, and Brian is mine.”

“And Mia’s,” Brian interjects, and ordinarily Dom would object to him speaking out of turn when Dom has him like this, but at least he's speaking sense.  
"Mia deserves—" Letty starts.

Brian flushes hot beneath Dom's hand. He rocks his weight back like he's about to stand, but Dom keeps pressure on his shoulder and he listens, although the muscle stays tense under Dom's hand. He's ready to fight. He's ready to run. But Dom knows Brian is better on his knees for this. He doesn't understand you can't run from Letty and you can't fight either. You've got to stand your ground and then if she wants that too you've got to let her take it.

"Ain't no one in this world good enough for Mia," Dom says. "But Brian does his best. He makes her happy. He makes both of us happy."

The idea of not sharing Brian is stranger than the fact of sharing him. Mia doesn't have this in her, this what-ever-it-is that drives Dom down to his knees before Letty or pins Brian to his side now, and they'd both fall apart without it. So Dom and Mia share. They don't squabble over Brian because he is so much more than they ever expected to have. He's given them _family_ again; he's given them their little golden Jack. They know it only takes one wrong turn of the wheel to take it all away again. They won't fuss too much about the details.

Letty knows that now too. She might know it better: she lost everything, and then she lost herself. Maybe she can share now, too. "Okay," she says, and miles of open road unfurl in those two small syllables.

Upstairs, Letty steers them towards the master bedroom. She leaves the overhead light off, but the street lights have clicked on outside and the room is bathed in a dim, golden glow. Dom follows her in, remembering the first time they had sex in this room, years and years ago. Different bed. Different people. Brian slouches by the door, like he isn't yet entirely certain if he wants to go or stay.

Without Brian's touch to anchor him, Dom goes down on instinct when Letty sits on the edge of the bed, settling to his knees on the carpet before her. But she snaps her fingers at him, tugs at the chain of the cross around his neck until he stands up again. "I need you here with me," she says, like he deserves an explanation.

"I am always here for you."

"But tonight I need you with me. Up here. I can't have you down there. In your head. Gone. I don't know how to do this, Dom. I don't know how to be this person. I don't know—" She stops. Takes a moment to simply breathe.

What she says isn't true, Dom knows. Letty woke up knowing a camshaft from a crankshaft and he guesses she still knows all the places she can hit a man without really hurting him. The wound in his shoulder is proof of that. Already, only five weeks later, and it doesn't trouble him much. He wouldn't want to haul out an engine, maybe, but he's started lifting weights again under Mia's watchful eye.

"I have an idea, though" Letty continues, before Dom kind find some way to put all that faith into words.

"If you want loud, we'll have to go down to the garage," he says instead. "Don't want to wake Jack."

But Letty shakes her head. "I don't need loud. I just need to see."

She tugs her sweatshirt off over her head and she's wearing one of Dom's sleeveless shirts beneath. When she slides her arm up, reaching one hand out to Brian, Dom can see the dark swirl of her areola through the thin fabric.

Brian approaches like a half-tamed deer: hesitant but interested. Curious. Letty takes his hand and turns it in two of her own, placing it flat on Dom's chest.

"Show me what you do with him," she asks Brian.

Brian looks to Dom, who nods.

Brian kisses him. Dom knows there's not much soft in him, but he likes this. He likes the way Brian's mouth feels against his, the way it opens for him smooth and easy, the way Brian lets him in like it's nothing, like it's everything, like it's the keys to a Supra, tossed across the tracks.

Dom presses Brian back. When he steps forward, Brian steps back, keeping just a hair's breadth of distance between them. Only their lips touch, their lips and Brian's hand, still flat on Dom's chest where Letty set it, but Dom's standing close enough to feel heat radiating off Brian. It's like a trick Mia showed him when they were kids, how you can rub your hands together faster and faster, until it feels like there's a static force building up between them, pushing them apart. The heat growing between him and Brian feels just like that.

Then Brian steps back again and his hip bumps the corner of the dresser. "Oops," Brian chuckles, and Dom steers him a little to the left, pressing him against the open wall, the other side of which is nothing but the wide Los Angeles night. Jack's room is all the way down the hall. Dom can feel the weight of Letty's watching eyes burning into his shoulders, but he keeps his attention on Brian. He tries to keep his head in the game, but like usual with Letty, he's not sure he knows what the game is.

Dom tries to give Brian something else to focus on. He unbuckles Brian's belt, pops the button on his jeans, and slides his hand down to cup Brian's cock in his hand. Brian is half-hard already, despite—because of?—his nervousness, and quickly hardens as Dom rolls his balls in his palm, strokes his fingertips gently over the smooth skin behind them. Brian makes a sweet little sound, spreading his legs as wide as he can with his jeans bunched around his hips and Dom's hand buried in them besides.

Letty laughs. It's quiet, but clean and pure; the happiest sound Dom has heard from her in ages. There's no mockery in it. "You boys have never done this for an audience, have you?" she asks.

Dom backs off a bit. Brian stays pressed against the wall. Shirt askew, pants open, mouth wide. "No," Brian snaps, frowning.

Dom slaps him on the cheek, just two fingers; enough to sting but not enough to mark. "Watch your tone," he growls. He watches the puff and swell of Brian's cheek as Brian runs his tongue over his teeth to check for blood. Dom wants to taste him again, to know for himself.

"I said I didn't mind a little back talk," Letty says, waving off Brian's misbehavior. "But you do know I can't see a damn thing with you all over him on the wall like that, right? Come over here."

Letty touches Dom's shoulder and he moves aside for her; he turns as easy for her as Brian does for him. He lets Letty position him towards the center of the room. Brian shuffles along behind, holding his pants up with one hand. It should be ridiculous, but it isn't. When she's got Dom where she wants him, Letty moves Brian too, and her cool, impersonal touch seems to settle him. He looses that wild-eyed nervous look.

They kiss again, standing together in the center of the room. Letty circles them curiously, as though she will understand what they do if only she can see it from just the right angle. It's awkward for the first couple revolutions. Dom tries to track her and doesn't pay nearly enough attention to Brian, who, sensing Dom's inattention, balks, tries to pull away again—not because he wants to get away, Dom knows, but because he needs to know he can't. The awkwardness dissipates by the time Letty finishes her first slow circle, and Dom and Brian kiss like they mean it.

"Take your shirt off, Dom," Letty says, on her second circle.

Dom forgets, sometimes, that sex can be leisurely. If he isn't careful, he'll go for the minimum amount of contact necessary every time, like he's afraid to ask for more. Half the time he's still dressed when Brian finishes and they both collapse, panting, sated, still in socks and laced boots.

Brian purrs happily when Dom unbuttons his shirt, reaching up to run his hands along Dom's arms, his back, pulling them closer together. "I like her," he says. "She has good ideas." He pulls his own shirt off for good measure and they kiss and stroke in a half-teasing, half-serious way until eventually Letty says, "Let me try," and Dom has to work to suppress his smile. Letty has never been good at just watching.  
While Letty kisses Brian, Dom feels a little bit isn't exactly sure what he should be doing. They're beautiful together, dark and light, but his hands ache to touch. Maybe he's not good at doing nothing, either. He steps behind Brian, bites at his neck, and Brian moans into Letty's mouth.

"That okay?" Letty asks, pulling back a bit to look Brian in the eyes.

"Yeah," he says, shaky.

"I am never going to let you put your dick in me," she says, blunt as always. "But I do want hurt you. Do you want me to hurt you?"

"Yes," Brian whines.

"Good. But that's not why I'm going to do it. I'm going to hurt you because I want to hurt you, because hurting you makes me happy, makes me feel good. Do you know how long it has been since I felt good?"

Brian says nothing.

"Hold him still," Letty says to Dom.

Dom stands behind Brian, so close their bodies tuck together. So close Brian could probably kick him in the balls something terrible if he wanted, even with only this inch or so to maneuver. He twists Brian's hands behind his back. "Be good for her," Dom purrs in Brian's ear.

Letty traces lines down Brian's bared torso. She doesn't keep her nails long—it's too much work to clean out the engine grease—but she cut them recently and they're sharp enough to leave behind wide furrows of reddened, inflamed skin.

Brian shivers. His hands are steady as ever but his ribs chatter and his shoulders press back unevenly against Dom's chest. But it isn't enough for Letty. She frowns down at Brian like she knows he's a lock but she's forgotten what a key is. And then her expression clears. 

She goes to the closet and pulls down the one box Dom had never been able to throw away. He knows exactly what she's looking for, now, and his mouth goes dry with want, but Brian sucks in a breath when she turns back towards them and he sees the knife she's holding.

"If you ask her to stop," Dom reassures him, "She will."

"Please don't stop," Brian whimpers, like he's taken Dom's words for threat instead of reassurance.

Brian stares up at Letty's face like she's the whole world. Dom feels a twinge of jealousy, but he understands what Letty needs from him tonight. He watches Letty's hands, instead, and sees how she turns the blade so the dull edge rests against Brian's skin. When she drags it down, it leaves a mark without quite breaking the skin. He gasps and shudders, pushes back against Dom like he wants to sink down even further. He switches his grip on Brian's wrists from one hand to two, and snakes his newly free hand through Brian's hair, holding him still like Letty asked.

The shapes Letty draws look, from Dom's angle at least, like the worst snarl of LA freeway traffic. Lines and overpasses and swooping cloverleaf interchanges. The repetition finally does draw blood. In the space where three lines overlap, right under his collarbone, the repetition finally does draw blood. Letty flips the knife around then, catching the droplet like her blade is a palette knife instead, and she smears it to a thin red sheen across Brian's chest.

If he moves too much now, with the flat of the blade against his skin, she really will cut him, whether she wants to or not. The knife is sharp. But Brian goes perfectly still, and Dom guesses he can feel the difference of the edge against his skin. If Dom were an inch further away, he would swear Brian wasn't breathing at all. Letty draws the knife down and down and down. She looks at Brian like she's daring him to tell her to stop. But there is no stop in Brian. Dom knows that, and he delights in watching Letty's face as she discovers it for herself.

She drags the flat of the blade up the side of Brian's cock and he moans low and load—too loud, probably; Mia certainly heard that one, if she isn't asleep already—and Dom knows that all Brian needs is one soft touch and he'd come for her, right there and then. But she doesn't give it to him. She doesn't touch him with her hand at all.

She holds the moment, lets it grow and stretch between the three of them. Dom sees the angle of her elbow change and he knows she's flipped the blade again but Brian is too far gone. He shudders against Dom, pushes back against Dom's hold so that he can arc up into the touch of Letty's blade. Dom risks shaking Brian to peek over his shoulder. Letty has the dull side of the blade nestled to the head of Brian's cock, light pressure pinning the purpling flesh up against his stomach. The sharp edge is pinched between her fingers, safely tucked away. Like this, she'll cut herself before she cuts Brian, and even that is unlikely.

Letty's free hand tugs Dom down further over Brian's shoulder, steps up on tiptoes and kisses Dom hard. All Dom can feel of Letty are her lips and her fingers, trembling ever so slightly where she presses them to the side of his face to hold him, but he can imagine the rough feel of her shirt against the bloody scratches on Brian's chest. Brian. Brian, who has gone perfectly still, soft and silent. He's not begging, like he does sometimes when Dom pushes him far enough. It's like his whole power of speech is gone, like his whole being is tied up with wanting what Letty wants: she doesn't want his cock, and Brian doesn't want anything but what she wants, and so he is simply still.

"Come for me," Letty whispers to Dom.

Brian is so content to be ignored—and that does it for Dom. He releases Brian's wrists and hair and grabs his hips instead, pulls him down, grinds against him, once, twice, and then he's coming. For her.

Letty pulls back from Dom, kisses Brian on the forehead. "Good boy," she says to Brian, lifting the knife from his cock.

She pulls them both after her like toys on a string, Dom fuzzed and Brian still buried in that stillness, and arranges them on the bed with her. She leaves Brian kneeling, still waiting, but she shimmies out of her garage pants and settles Dom between her legs. He knows better than to touch her unasked, and so he simply laps in complement to the rhythm she sets herself and sucks at her clit when she spreads her fingers to allow him access. He's slow, out of practice and still blurred from his own orgasm, but her hands are quick and sure and it's not long before she bucks up against him, shuddering. When she pulls away from him, Brian whimpers.

"You said he's yours," Letty says, sounding sated and content. The laughter is back in her voice and she leans back against the headboard, seemingly without care for either her nakedness or the grease-and-blood-speckled shirt pulling awkwardly across her chest. "I think you'd better take care of him."

Dom sighs as though put upon, but even Brian smiles, even if it turns to a gasp as Dom closes his fist around Brian's cock. While Dom strokes him, wondering exactly how he ended up doing all the work tonight, Brian kisses him, licking Letty's wetness from the corners of his mouth, his chin. "I can taste her on you," he whispers.

"You'd better enjoy it then, because it's all you're going to get," Letty says.

"I really am very good with my mouth," Brian gasps.

"Hmm," Letty muses. "And how many other times have you talked big before losing a race to Dom?"

Dom flicks his hand just the way he knows Brian can't resist, putting a stop to the conversation before Brian can say anything else stupid. Brian spills over his hand with a low keening sound.

They all settle into bed.

This would be enough, Dom thinks. It would be more than enough, even if Letty never made him crawl for her again, never made him beg to crawl for her. That first time in Lompoc, Dom had thought he missed Letty as much as it was possible for one person to miss another person. He hadn't realized there was a difference between missing someone whose life went on without him, and missing one whose life stopped. He knows now that the former is greatly preferable.

He knows they should talk about this. Digest the scene. Check in. He should get up. Get cleaned up; his pants are a sticky mess. He should make sure the front door is locked and Mia is sleeping comfortably. He knows he'll find her curled on the bed in Jack's room, next to the crib; and he knows, too, that it's an even chance whether Brian will be in that bed or this one, come morning.

But Dom wants to bask in this stillness for just moment more. He wants to let his life be nothing bigger than this one room with the scent of sex in the air and the sound of distant traffic whirring beyond the windowpane. He wants his whole life to be no bigger than the roof over this one house which shelters the four people he loves most in all the world.


End file.
